


Two Birds in a Bar

by Elfwreck



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU - Comicverse, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Community: intoabar, Crossover, First Meetings, Gen, Post - Deathly Hallows, Pre-BftC, clandestine meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-12
Updated: 2010-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfwreck/pseuds/Elfwreck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Prompt:</b> Tim Drake walks into a bar and meets... Minerva McGonagall<br/>"At least that's a proper boy's name. Not like that Bat fellow."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Birds in a Bar

Gotham had two types of bars that Robin could enter without being harassed or carded: those where he'd saved someone who worked there, and those that were such sleazy dives that the Penguin could make snuff films as long as everyone on the crew bought a drink. His meeting required discretion, if not privacy, so this was not one of the former.

Tim looked over all the customers (he tried not to think of them as "denizens") _very_ carefully before walking to the back table where he'd been told his contact would be waiting for him.

His first thought was that she looked incredibly out of place. Poised, austere, and self-assured in a way that nobody who came here for leisure ever was. His second thought was that she was ancient. Or at least, older than anyone he knew, including Alfred. Black dress in a vaguely Victorian style, silver hair in a tight bun, pinched expression on her face. That, at least, was familiar. Gordon often looked like that. That was the "let's get this over with" look.

She turned to look as he walked up to her table. "You must be the one they said would be coming," she said peevishly, and waved at the seat facing her "Sit down."

He let the cape fall shut, but didn't fold his arms. "I prefer to stand. This shouldn't take long." He just needed a name and description of the rogue wizard who was, rumor had it, heading to Gotham tomorrow night.

She tilted her head down to look over the tops of her glasses at him. "Sit _down_ , boy; you look like a harlequin--" Tim frowned so hard at that he almost missed her saying, "and I'm not going to crane my neck to talk to you."

Tim stared at her. She stared back, with an expression that said _I've been staring down teenage boys since before your parents were born_. Tim managed not to gulp—he did have years of practice dealing with Leslie—but he did slide into the seat opposite hers.

He hated booths. Booths were traps. He stayed close to the edge of the seat so he'd be able to get to his feet quickly, and kept the door in sight.

She pulled out a wand and tapped it sharply on the edge of the table, and said a few words he couldn't make stick in his mind. A bubble of light, barely visible, surrounded the table. He started to leap to his feet.

She pinned him with her eyes again. "A silencing spell, for privacy. Nobody else can see it, and nobody outside can hear us, now. Let's begin anew, shall we?" She spoke firmly and not quite coldly. "Hello. I'm Minerva McGonagall, headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And you are?"

Tim clenched his fists in his gauntlets. He didn't have _time_ for this. He clenched his teeth and answered, "Robin."

If she noticed his rush, she didn't acknowledge it. "Robin. At least that's a proper boy's name. And your … whatever-that-getup-is," she nodded at his uniform, "has some color to it. Not like that Bat fellow. Always a bad sign when they start wearing dark robes and hoods."

Tim suddenly understood why he, and not Bruce, was chosen for this meeting. "Batman wears a cowl, not a hood. And a cape."

"Be that as it may. He dresses like a dark wizard; he should be watched."

"He is." By him. And Alfred. And Dick, and Barbara, and Gordon, and Clark. And occasionally the entire Justice League, and of course, half the reporters in Gotham, in one of his roles or another. Bruce's choices might be problematic, but he was hardly in danger of an unnoticed turn towards evil. "Unlike, apparently, the wizard you came here to warn us about. Who is it?"

Her lips tightened at his obvious impatience, but that was the only sign of displeasure. Her voice still had the measured tones of a schoolteacher. "Malfoy."

"First name? Last name? Only name?"

"Lucius Malfoy, former henchman to the Dark wizard, Voldemort."

"What happened to Voldemort?"

"He's deceased."

"And this Malfoy's decided to step into his shoes?"

" 'Put on his robes,' we might say. Yes. But the wizarding community in Great Britain hasn't forgotten the war. Has only begun to recover from the worst of it. They're not receptive to him at the moment."

She made it sound like "the war" should be capitalized, but she obviously wasn't referring to World War II. Tim made a note to himself to research recent occult activity in the UK.

"So he's coming here where he's unknown."

"That would seem to be the case."

Tim took a deep breath. This could take longer than he'd thought. He got out a small notebook.

"Tell me about him?"

Over the next hour, Tim was given a list of common dangerous spells, a crash course in wizarding history, a longer description of wizarding politics, centered around the machinations of the Malfoy family. She also gave him a wizarding photo of Malfoy (Tim briefly pondered whether white-blonde men have an innate tendency towards psychopathy) and a copy of his Hogwarts transcripts showing Outstanding rankings in Charms and Defense Against Dark Arts. Minerva explained that charms included hexes, which were dangerous, and an affinity for defense often meant an affinity for offense. Tim could understand the basic concepts and hoped Bruce or maybe Zatara would be able to help with the details. She noted that he had only Acceptable marks in Potions, so they needn't worry over-much about shapeshifting; Tim had no idea how to take that.

Malfoy had a son, who might or might not be assisting him, and a wife, who was missing and possibly murdered, either by Malfoy or his enemies. Her death, whoever caused it, might have been what put him over the edge. The one wizard they were sure could take Malfoy down was missing, presumed to be looking for the man who'd betrayed and later tried to save his mother. Tim tried not to make any comparisons between the family dramas she was describing and the vigilante community.

Tim found it easiest to listen to her as if she were Leslie: absorb the facts, sort them into categories of "important," "incidental," and "background details," and try to ignore the personal commentary. She was somewhat more organized in her explanations than Leslie; he supposed that was from being a teacher rather than a doctor. She didn't have the luxury of firing people who couldn't keep up.

He tucked away the documents as she was finishing.

"Remember," she said, "his greatest weakness is likely to be ignorance. He is unfamiliar with Muggle customs, and has never visited the States. And he is vain, and accustomed to servitude. He should be… very noticeable, here." She glanced around the bar, somehow managing to include an implication of all of Gotham in "here."

Tim nodded. "We'll watch for him. If he comes here, we'll stop him." He didn't bother to tell her how big "here" was. He knew Bruce would be forwarding this information to the League.

"Robin," she said, waiting until she had his full attention. He stopped checking the supplies in his belt and looked at her.

"Be _careful_ ," she said urgently. "Young men get _hurt_ going up against dark wizards." A shadow fell over her face, and he knew she was remembering someone. Maybe more than one someone.

"I'm not…" that young. Innocent. Untrained. All true, but he couldn't meet her eyes and finish the sentence.

"I know," she said. "If he comes here, you're going to face him, no matter what warnings you're given." She paused. "I have some experience with attempting to keep young men from challenging dark wizards," and at that, she smiled wryly. "Just… be careful. More than you think you need to be. If not for yourself, for the others he'll go after if he strikes at you and misses."

Tim thought about the spells she'd described, and how much damage they could do to someone who wouldn't even know to seek help for them. He nodded to let her know he'd understood. "I'll be careful." He stood to leave; he really needed to get this information back to Batman. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, young man." She stood, and flicked her wand; he felt a slight change like a shift in air pressure.

He looked around the bar again, noting how out-of-place she seemed. "Would you like an escort? While I imagine you can take care of yourself—" he nodded toward the wand, "—you might not want to call attention to your presence here."

Ghost of a smile on her lips. "I assure you, I'll be fine. You run along now. If we meet again, I hope it's under less stressful circumstances."

Tim knew a dismissal when he heard one. He nodded goodbye, and adjusted his cape before leaving. As he'd hoped, nobody in the bar even looked in his direction.

He made a quick call to Batman, saying the meeting had gone well and he'd have more information later, as he climbed to the roof of the next building. Rapunzel's Record Tower was two stories taller; from the turret, he could see both exits of Larry's Place. He intended to follow McGonagall back to wherever she was staying in Gotham.

In the next hour, he saw four drunk men leave the bar through the front door, two bartenders and a cat leave through the back, and one apparently homeless woman who looked like she was seeking drugs go in and out several times, but no elderly woman in a black dress. He hopped back down to look inside, but she was gone. He added "invisibility" to the list of spells he assumed she could do, and went back to the Cave to write up his report.


End file.
